You Started It
by Jessica Kincaid
Summary: Chronologically-ordered long story in small installments. My version of the path to romance for Captain Swan. Moderately canon. Begins during 2x09. Features lots of Captain Swan, as well as Snow, Charming, Cora, Henry, and eventually the Neverland crew. Updated sporadically. Conservatively rated T; no language or explicit material.
1. Could've Fooled Me: Part 1

**Featured characters:** Hook, Emma, Cora

Since she wasn't making progress with Cora's men, Emma stopped struggling against their grip on her arms. She called Hook's name. She knew he'd respond to the attitude, if only out of curiosity.

As predicted, Hook sashayed towards her. His boots thudded softly against the forest's moss carpeting. He stopped with his face not quite touching hers. His chest warmed the four inches of space that stood between them. As she drew breath, it tasted bittersweet, recycled from his own breathing and carrying the distinct bite of rum and spice. His silence was his dare to her. _Dare to react._

Emma didn't. She stayed focused, and in a steady yet sotto voice, she said, "Please don't this. I have to get back to Henry."

Hook looked at her from under his lashes. He played with the arrangement of her hair. Yet he remained silent. A smirk, an innuendo—both would be in character. Silence was not.

Emma looked over his shoulder to Cora, her attention drawn by a slight rustling of her cape. Her hand was hidden in the recesses of the fabric. A twinge passed over Hook's face: a crooked eyebrow, a long blink, a tightening of his shoulder muscles.

When his eyes met hers again, Emma felt she understood. The stakes were higher, then, but that didn't change the facts. Henry was in danger. And now, apparently, so was Hook. All the more reason to help her.

Emma urged, "You know Cora cannot be trusted."

"It's not trust at the moment, love." In a louder voice, Hook called to the queen, "Shall I?"

"Swiftly, Captain. I want to meet my step-grandson." Cora sent Emma a little smirk.

_Let the record show I_ _did _try_ the nice way. _

Emma threw a shoulder against the guard at her left elbow, hoping to catch him unaware. Her arm slipped from his grip, but his companion was more alert. The three of them scuffled—her to get away, them to hold on. She threw several punches, not all of which connected.

With an air of annoyance, Hook grabbed her shoulder with one hand, hooked his foot around her knee, and jerked. Emma fell to the ground with a grunt as he landed on top of her. She panicked. He pinned her flailing legs down with his own and pressed his body against hers, laughing. The guards stepped on her wrists as Hook rested his metal tip against her throat.

"Still yourself, lass."

The smirk in his eyes betrayed his hopes she would do no such thing.

Emma wriggled more, trying to throw him off. He pressed his weight further against her. He was like a two-hundred pound blanket that smelled of saltwater. It was hard to breathe with him compressing her rib cage.

She was forced to a conclusion. She couldn't get free. The panic rose.

Hook must have felt the tension building below him because he craned close to her ear and hushed her. "Trust me, Swan."

"Get off me first," she snapped.

"Hush, now." Hook pressed his good hand over her mouth and glanced back at Cora. "She's still enough. Bring it over."

Cora approached with a small glass vial.


	2. Could've Fooled Me: Part 2

**Featured characters: **Hook, Emma, Cora

Emma's lips tickled his palm as she mumbled and squirmed in protest. Hook had been too occupied with the intensity of their situation to tease her, but now he could not resist. He smiled what he knew to be, by careful practice, a roguish smile. "You are a _fiery _one, Swan. I forever grant you that."

That, of course, did nothing to calm her. Hook took the time to enjoy the feeling of her body squirming under his as Cora uncorked the vial and handed it to him. He held it below Emma's nose and blew the purple gas cloud towards her face.

"Deep breath, love."

Emma fought it, but eventually she breathed in the paralysis. Hook noticed its effect immediately: the struggling waned.

"Take heart, Miss Swan," Cora soothed. She brushed Emma's forehead with her gloved hand. Hook found himself frowning. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to leave you here, in your Enchanted Forest. Here you'll sleep, safe and beautiful, with no prince left to wake you. A fitting end for the daughter of Prince Charming and Show White."

The wiggling ceased. _A pity. _The paralysis had done its full work. Only her chest heaved as she snorted racing breaths.

"Captain, please see to it she is comfortable."

Cora and her men stepped back as Hook scooped Emma into his arms. The glass coffin Cora created sat open and waiting on a large mossy trunk. Emma moaned as Hook set her in the embrace of the silken lining. Her head sank into the pillow. He took a moment to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"Lock it," Cora called. "The sun is setting. We must be off."

"One moment longer, Your Highness. To say goodbye." Hook leaned in over Emma. Her chest was still racing and she moaned in an effort to speak. Hook hushed her. In a voice that Cora could hear if she tried, he brushed her temple and said, "Goodbye, Swan."

* * *

To add a final insult to Emma's indignity, Hook pressed his lips against hers. She wanted to slap him so hard, she'd tear away the stubble on his face. She wanted to run him through with every sword, lance, and pointed objected she could find. She wanted to take back every kind thing she'd ever said to him, every passing thought about his ability to be redeemed. She wanted to gut him, burn the remains, and stomp on the ashes.

So why, in the name of everything sacred, she let him kiss her so passionately, she'd never know. Some combination of the paralysis, shock, and utter outrage. Regardless, passionate didn't _begin_ to cover it. He acted like he was bringing breath to the drowned. And it had the distinct taste of elderberries.

The instinct portion of her brain lit up, insisting something was wrong. But then again, the whole situation was wrong, so why she should take offense with one detail over another?

So occupied with her thoughts about the man kissing her like it was his last, it took her a long moment to realize he was also pressing something into her paralyzed fingers.

Something cold and small. Something that felt suspiciously like a key.

When it rested on her palm, Hook closed her fingers around it and then crossed her arms over her chest. With ragged breath, he whispered in her ear, "Nostos."

Or maybe it was nothing. Just him catching his breath after that stunning invasion of personal space.

Planting one more kiss on her cheek, he withdrew, locked the glass lid over her, and returned to Cora's side.


	3. Could've Fooled Me: Part 3

**Featured characters:** Emma

That devil.

Two hours later, feeling returned to Emma's fingers. After another twenty minutes, she could move her arms.

So that's what all the kissing was about.

It didn't take long to understand the key Hook slipped her unlocked the coffin from the inside. She wondered why Cora would create a prison with such a loop hole, but after the afternoon she'd had, she'd take things at face value for a few hours.

Emma pushed the lid off and jumped out. Her body tingled as the last of the drug wore off. Evening fell quickly in the forest, so whatever she was going to do, she needed to do now.

Hooks parting word came back to her. _Nostos._

She had no idea what he was up to, or why he'd helped her. But again, face value seemed the wisest choice.

Sword less—thanks to Cora's buffoons—Emma jogged through the forest. It was dark by the time she reached the lake. She crouched in the bushes, the rustling she made covered by cricket song and a bull frog. The _Roger _bobbed on the surface, its sides licked by the waves as the moonlight illuminated the water. A plank at the ship's backside gave access to a small hatch.

Emma raised an eyebrow. It was _not _this easy. For not the first time, she wondered if this was a trap. Or a test. But with the compass and Cora on board, and no other transportation options, Emma chucked caution one more time. She climbed through the open hatch, falling into the hold. After shutting the door behind her, she hid behind a tall stack of crates in the corner.

Silence fell. As the minutes dragged on, Emma could hear footsteps several decks above, and occasionally voices. After some time, she heard churning water. The boat swayed. Loose rigging slid across the floor.

Footsteps approached—louder and sharper with each footfall. Hook, by the sound of the boots. The hold door creaked as it was pulled up. Emma pushed her eye between crates to watch.

Hook descended the stairs and looked at the closed hatch.

Emma banged her head against the wall. Honestly, she had no idea _what _to expect from him. It was stupid to take chances. She wondered if she'd be fighting him again, and looked around for a weapon.

Without a word or further look around the hold, Hook left the way he came.

* * *

Fire.

That's what she felt in her calf muscle. Fire.

Emma had been sitting behind the stack of crates for at least two hours. She'd promised herself she wouldn't move. It would be stupid. It would be short-sighted. It would mean risking all her progress just for a little comfort.

But by now, her calf muscle had the density of a boulder, and if she didn't stand up to stretch, she'd probably never walk again. Also, the seasickness was returning.

_I'm just gonna stand,_ she chanted to herself. She pulled herself up with the crates. Her legs buckled as the muscles locked up. The swaying ship didn't help.

As soon as she stood, it was like her lungs turned on after a long respite. As her leg muscles loosened, the idea of fresh air consumed her. She _had _to go up on deck. Cora and her magic be darned.

On shaky legs, Emma pushed open the hold door and fell onto the deck. The night blanketed the ship in enough black to protect her from being seen by Hook as he steered the _Roger _from quarterdeck. Emma crawled to the bow.

And then bumped into boots.

_You've got to be kidding._

"You!" Cora's perfectly manicured features couldn't hide the shock. "How did you escape?"

_What the heck. _Emma decided if she was going to be in pain, she might as well enjoy the moment. "Sang a song. Met some woodland critters. Surrender, or suffer the wrath of my furry friends."


	4. Could've Fooled Me: Part 4

**Featured characters: **Hook, Emma

As Cora shouted his name, Hook groaned.

_Really, Swan? We're almost there._

When he found them on the main deck, Hook was surprised to see Emma swaying—falling, really—from one side to the next until she was nearly horizontal. The ship listed to the left, and Emma fell into his arms. He caught her, just barely remembering not to smile.

Cora glared at him. "_How_did she get here?"

Emma shoved her way out of Hook's arms. As Cora waited for an answer from either of them, Emma glanced at Hook. Her eyes were guarded as she sized him up. No, dared him. Why should she protect him? Give her a reason.

Hook's heart stopped. When he made his plan, he hadn't taken this into account. What if she sold him out? He held her gaze, willing her to remember the antidote he'd given her, the key he'd slipped her, the plank he'd left out.

"I've picked up a few tricks," Emma told Cora. "Thanks to several rounds with your daughter."

Hook closed his eyes. She would get his thanks in the form of a very long, very exciting kiss. She'd slap him for it, of course. All the better. She was fetching when she was flustered.

Cora pursed her lips. "I have no time to waste on you. I must prepare for our arrival in Storybrooke. Captain, kill her."

_Of course. Straight to the killing. Where has the world's imagination gone?_Hook shrugged, unsheathing his sword as if he did this fifteen times a day. He ambled to Emma.

A look flitted over her eyes—she was wondering if she'd misjudged him. Even now, she could open her mouth and doom them both. It didn't escape Hook's notice that she refrained. He had a passing revelation—_She_wants _to believe in me._—before he brushed it away. He had to focus.

Hook grabbed her and spun her around until she was on her knees with her back pressed against him. His hook snaked behind her body, captured her wrist on the other side and pulling it behind her. His sword hung in his good hand. In his head, he counted the seconds.

As he neared his predetermined number, Hook rested the blade against her throat. He felt it shift as she swallowed. _Eighteen, nineteen . . ._

Just before twenty, Cora stopped him. He stopped without making it look like he'd been waiting. "What?"

"I've changed my mind. Don't kill her. Not just yet." Cora cupped Emma's cheek. "She'll be our bait for Regina and Henry."

At the mention of Henry's name, Emma shouted a string of epitaphs. She threw her shoulders against Hook's waist and tried to twist her wrist from his hold.

Hook laughed. "You're only goading me, love." He pulled her tighter against himself. He ran his fingers through the roots of her blonde curls and smiled when he felt her shudder.

"Get your hands off me, you filthy—"

Hook fondled her chin with his hand and pressed a finger over her lips. He turned her face up to him. "Is that anyway for a princess to talk?"

Emma snapped at his finger.

"Enough." With a flick of her hand, Cora pulled Emma away from Hook and bound her wrists with pieces of broken rigging. Another flick bound her ankles. Emma fell to the deck.

"I don't care how you do it," Cora said to Hook, "but it is your task to keep her subdued until she is of use to us."

Hook hooded his eyes and sent the most lecherous smirk he could conjure in Emma's direction. Fair payback for leaving him behind at the beanstalk yesterday afternoon. "Your Highness," he growled, "it would be my pleasure."

Thunder clapped above their heads, the gray clouds having approached unseen as Hook was distracted by the women. "If you want to arrive in Storybrooke intact, I suggest we out run this storm."

"Lock her up in your quarters, then tend to the ship. I'll do what I can to control it." Cora walked away towards the stern.

Emma hurled a long string of abuses at Hook as he came towards her. For the mere pleasure of earning her glare, he gagged her with his scarf. As he scooped her up, he chided, "Understand, darling, you bring these things upon yourself."

He carried her below deck to his stateroom when the ship pitched sharply to the right. He tripped and the two of them fell onto the bed. Emma had a fit as he struggled over her to right himself.

Hook tied her to the ornate bed frame with an assortment of belts and scarves—one around her waist, one around each elbow. Once finished, he sat next to her, a silky pink scarf in his hands. "I know this isn't your color. I ask for your forbearance."

Hook threaded it around her neck and a bar, Emma squirming when they brushed noses. In the cold cabin, he was warmed as he hovered around her. He lingered in her space, breathing in. He felt the humidity of his own breath as it hit her face and reflected back. Her scent was sweetly spiced—not unlike his own, now that he thought of it—and fresh. Cinnamon and rainwater.

With the knot in the scarf begun, he held one end in place with his good hand. Hook reached his face under her chin, brushing her jaw with his hair as he went. He bit the cinching end of the scarf and tugged. Emma swallowed. As her cheeks flushed red, his own heart hammered as he watched her come unglued, despite her best efforts. The space between them sparked.

The scarf cinched tight. Hook slipped a finger under it—intending to check its hold, but he was warm in her space, and stayed there. He rested his forearm against her chest, feeling the quaking of her own rapid pulse. He ran a fingertip down her face. "What it would take," he whispered after a moment, "for you to trust me?"

Emma looked . . . scared. Not of what she thought he'd do to her, because he was getting a distinct "I'm beyond annoyed and you shall pay greatly" vibe rather than an "I'm fighting for my life because you're going to kill me" mentality.

The crazy pulse beating against his arm, and the flush creeping down her neck, and the way she couldn't look him straight in the eyes anymore told him she was afraid . . . of him. Of the looks they traded moments ago on deck when they lied to Cora. And the look she gave him when he kissed her in the coffin. And the confusion in her eyes when she saw the key. And maybe she was afraid of herself, too.

Hook couldn't linger further. He was, after all, a gentleman, regardless of what Emma thought. To save her pride, he pretended not to notice the flush on her face. He tweaked her nose to make her angry. Angry was safe. "Are we comfortable?"

Like that, the moment was gone. The tension seeped away as Emma grunted. She tested everything as she pulled and twisted to get free. She grunted more when nothing gave. Her frustration boiled out of her eyes.

A clap of thunder shook the seas. The boat tilted to the right.

Hook sighed. "I am needed above deck. We must return to this another time." He tweaked her nose once more. "I'll be back after I've sorted this mess you've gotten us in." He kissed her forehead and left her wriggling in the grasp of her restraints, shouting his name as best she could.

* * *

Emma had no idea how long she'd been in Hook's room. Which smelled of rum, saltwater, and—oh gosh, was that _incense_? What kind of pirate scented his room with _incense_?

The storm must have died down. The ship ceased its rocking. In fact, it barely seemed to move. She groaned. Stuck like this on Hook's ship in the middle of the doldrums. That's just what she needed.

Emma was shifting against the iron scrollwork of the king-sized bed when the stateroom door open. Hook entered. The door shut.

And _locked_.

"Hello, beautiful." The bed dipped as Hook sat next to her. Emma tensed. "Miss me?'

And to think, five hours ago she was moderately amicable to this creep.

Hook slipped the gag off. Emma huffed hair out of her eyes. When it fell back, he brushed it behind her ear with his good hand. "You put us in quite the spot." He played with her hair and leaned his forehead against hers. "Lucky for you, I was able to steer us clear. You really ought to thank me."

"If you so much as touch me, I swear I will scream and I will not _stop_screaming."

Hook chuckled. "Scream all you like, love. It's only the three of us. We'll not be interrupted anytime soon. With the storm passed, I've told Cora you're tied up in my bed," he fluxed a black eyebrow and pushed the tip of his tongue behind his teeth, "and I've come to have my way with you."

Emma's adrenaline flared. He was just trying to get a rise, of course. Still, the idea infuriated her. She sneered, "You wouldn't _dare_."

"Because I am a gentleman, as you well know." Hook lifted her chin with one finger. "So why do you insist on pretending you believe otherwise?"

"You'll understand my skepticism," Emma tried to lift her arms to make her point.

"That is not an answer." Hook withdrew a knife from his boot and freed her. After handing her his flask of rum, he withdrew to the side of the room, where he leaned against the wardrobe with crossed arms and a ducked gaze.

She fired off the first cheap shot that came to mind. "You're a _pirate_," as if that explained everything. Emma stretched her neck with a groan, knocked back half his rum, and stood.

The look that flitted over Hook's face suggested he was hurt. "On my honor, Swan," he paused, "I would never hurt you."

So what about the years of plundering and killing and stealing? Should she just pretend they never happened? He was missing a hand because he stole someone's wife, for crying out loud. Not for the first time either, she reminded herself. Hook's moral compass did not point north. Yet, for whatever reason, Emma felt rather convinced that she fell within his moral code of "Do not hurt unless given no other option."

Gee. How touching. Excuse her while she strikes up the band.

"Could've fooled me," she muttered. She gave him a look of resignation, capping the flask before she handed it back. "But you did get me out of the coffin, so . . . thanks."

A grin spread from his pierced ear to his other. He took a step towards her. "Did you enjoy that antidote? I did." Emma held out a hand to stop him, but he advanced until she'd backed against the wall. "Perhaps you should have a second dose, just to be safe."

Emma ducked out of his encroaching arms. "Can we observe the personal space rule for ten minutes, please? I thought you were trying to behave."

"Very well," Hook gestured towards the French doors at the back of his cabin. "Perhaps you care for something to eat?"

"You've got a balcony. On a boat. Of course you do."

"You must be tired of wearing those clothes." He opened the wardrobe, offering a black evening dress with a cheeky grin.

"Not. Happening."

Hook held up his hand in surrender. "I had to try, love." He offered a billowy white shirt and black trousers. When she folded her arms, he cocked an eyebrow. "Come now, be a good sport. When in Rome, you know."

"Are those your clothes?"

"If I say yes, does that entice you?"

Emma threw one of the bed's decorative pillows at him.

He ducked. "Darling, you fought three times, rolled across a sandy cave floor, escaped a glass coffin, ran through the woods, hid in the brambles—you need a change of clothes."

Emma gave the shirt a look like it was about to morph into a snake. "Only," she snapped as she took it from him, "this once."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." His grin was unbearable. Emma turned on her heel and stomped behind the changing screen. He turned his back to her without her even asking. "I really don't understand what your objection is," he called over his shoulder, fingering his hook. "You're with me, both Cora and your compass are on board, you're with me, we're bearing down on your son's location—did I mention you are with me?"

When Emma stepped away from the screen, Hook looked her up and down. The shirt hung long and loose over her, its cuffs dripping down her hands. "Swan, you can be my captain any day."

"Could you stop for fifteen minutes?" Emma flung the French doors open and plopped down in a chair. When she saw the hot spread, she tried not to look impressed. She jumped when Hook's voice tickled her ear.

"While we're waiting for the wine to cool, would you grace me with a dance?"

"_Forget it_." Emma could not believe this man. "I don't dance. There's no music. Sit. Eat."

Hook held his hand out. Something about the way he said her name made her look up. "What would happen," he whispered, "if you trusted me once?"

Again, for the love of all things sacred, why did she let him pull her out of the chair? He led her out onto the balcony, where the stars burned in the sky, and settled his arms around her. They waltzed to the rhythm of the waves.

Emma put her head on his shoulder. Worse yet, she didn't move it after she realized what she'd done. Honestly, half the things she went through were indeed her fault, as he had told her on deck.

Hook held her tighter and rested his own head against hers. In that moment, she couldn't tell who was holding onto who. Maybe it didn't matter.


	5. Could've Fooled Me: Part 5

**Featured characters: **Hook, Emma, Cora

Hook left Cora at the railing, where she clucked and murmured at the magnified image of Storybrooke through his eyeglass. He hurried to his stateroom. Just as he reached for the latch, the door swung open from the inside. His gaze fell on a frozen, crouching Emma, who held a bobby pin in one hand and slender butter knife in the other.

As she flashed him a grin, Hook crossed his arms.

"Just practicing."

"As I've mentioned before, you would be a wonderful pirate." Hook took her by the arm and pulled her up. He hurried them down the hall, looking over both shoulders at every intersection and doorway.

Emma pulled away. "Dude, where's the fire?"

"We've reached your land," Hook hissed. He pushed her against the wall with his good hand, peeking around the corner. Before them lay the stairs leading to deck. "For the moment, Cora is distracted. You must slip over the side of the ship. She won't be lost in thought long."

"Slow down for a second." Emma didn't move when he beckoned for her hand. "What's her plan?"

"I don't _know _yet. Do you want to escape or not?"

"I'm not leaving until I figure out her endgame."

_Lands. _This woman. How did he continually find himself in the company of such headstrong females? Abandoning his plan to swiftly mount the stairs, Hook faced her. He backed her up against the wall and leaned in her face to make sure she paid attention.

"If you," he started slowly, his breath on her face making her blink, "do not leave now, she will use you as leverage against the people you love. And when she is done, she will hurt you. So please, for the love of sanity, Swan," he pushed his forehead against hers and growled, "get off my ship."

"Hold on a second." Emma pushed him back, eyes squinted in thought. "What are you going to do?"

Hook blinked. Really? After all that, she just changes the subject? Did the woman not _listen _when other people opened their mouths? "I beg your pardon?"

"Are you going after Gold?"

Hook pressed his teeth together. "Cora and I have an understanding. I'd rather you not be standing in the crossfire. Please," he ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, "would you just leave?"

"You can't kill Gold." Emma said it as if it were as obvious as one of the fundamental laws of the universe. Like, _Boats sail on water_, or _Stuff falls because of gravity_, or _Never try the haggis soup at The Broken Bowl_.

"I will do what I have to. Including knocking you unconscious and throwing you overboard myself." He lifted her chin with his hook. "What shall it be, Swan?"

"You're afraid of Cora."

Hook pinched his nose bridge. He should have just kept her unconscious for the duration of the trip. "There are few things I fear," he hissed. "A trollop in lacey gloves and an umbrella is hardly one of them."

"Is that so?" Both Hook and Emma spun at the voice behind them. Cora stood on the stairs, lacey gloved hands folded in front of her. She smiled. "May I ask what you are doing?"

Hook shifted in front of Emma. He opened his mouth, but Emma stepped around him and held up the bobby pin. "He caught me. I was getting bored. Your room service is terrible."

Cora frowned like a headmistress at a boarding school. "I tire of your antics. Both of you. I chose to overlook your earlier foolishness on deck. I thought, Captain," she glared at him, "you'd abstain from further errors in judgment. I see I was wrong."

Hook swallowed. "I got you to Storybrooke, just as I promised. I've not betrayed our agreement."

"I no longer believe you have the resolve required to fulfill your revenge quest." Cora glanced at Emma. "It seems you have become distracted." She smiled. "But that really is of little matter to me, for I still have use for your services. We will enter Storybrooke and begin the next phase of my plan."

As warning bells sounded in his head, Hook stalked towards Cora. "Your business with your daughter is your own." He leaned in her face. "I'll not be ordered about."

"Concerning the former, you are correct." Cora reached in her cloak. Hook groaned and dropped to his knees.

* * *

"Hey!" Emma shouted. "You've got everything you want. You don't need to do this."

Cora ignored her. When Hook cried out and fell flat against the floor, Emma rushed the queen. Cora froze her midstride with a raised palm, immobilizing everything from her neck to her toes.

With her hidden hand still clenching Hook's heart, Cora stepped over the pirate. She approached Emma with a frown. "You are a costly asset, Miss Swan. If I didn't believe you are worthwhile incentive, you would be dead." She laughed. "When I am finished with you, perhaps I'll have the good captain do it. He's been thirsty to take a heart."

Emma's guts pitched inside her. Hook never looked so panicked. That would break him. In a way, this was her fault—he'd asked her to go. How was she supposed to save everybody when they took opposing sides all the time? This savior gig was overrated.

Cora passed them both and mounted the stairs. "For now, I must see this Storybrooke. We shall discuss your fates at a more appropriate time. Captain! Knock her out. Secure her in your footlocker."

* * *

Hook caught his breath. His locker was barely four feet by four. He'd been locked in it before. It wasn't an experience he'd force on Emma.

"No!" Hook struggled to his feet, hand under his coat as he pressed his chest. "I can secure her as before. She'll not escape." He groaned as a pang pierced his chest.

"You have your orders." Cora paused on her way past him to hiss, "This is for the trollop remark."

Emma helped him to his feet. He still labored for breath as his pulse settled. He knew from experience the pain in his chest would remain for a while.

"She has something that belongs to you." Emma nodded in the direction Cora had gone.

"_Don't_." Hook gripped her shoulder until she winced. "Do not provoke her further. I will handle my affairs." His heart trembled with a spasm. It would until he followed Cora's orders.

Emma saw it. "Go ahead."

"I told you to leave while you could. Why couldn't you listen to me—just this once?"

"I have to do what is necessary. But so do you. Do it."

He'd argue, except they both knew she was right. Hook took her in his arms. He held up his hook and whispered, "She wants me to use this. Fortunately, she forgot to specify." He removed the glass vial from his belt. Emma uncorked it and breathed in.

That's when she remembered the antidote from last time. "You devil."

"You started it." Scooping her up, Hook kissed her vigorously all the way back to his stateroom. Instead of the footlocker, which is definitely what his twanging his heart _wanted _him to use, he turned the wardrobe on its side and locked her in it, hoping that would count as a "footlocker" of sorts.

As he trudged above deck to take his place at a gloating Cora's side, he set upon the task of formulating an escape plan. If he didn't come up with one soon, Swan would beat him to it.

And what kind of gentleman lets the lady beat him to an escape plan?


	6. Could've Fooled Me: Part 6

**Featured characters: **Emma

The closet door splintered on the third kick. Emma crawled out of the wardrobe, sweat dampened and stiff muscled but primarily _angry_.

"This is a public service announcement," she said as she wrenched the stateroom door open, "I am officially done with the knocking out routine."

Emma stalked above deck, looking for something or somebody to reprimand. The deck was thick with early morning mist, the buildings of Storybrooke proper just visible further inland. Next to the dock it was tethered to, the _Roger _shifted in the water as the tide came in. A quick search of the ship confirmed that Cora and Hook were still scouting the town. She didn't know how long she had, but she wouldn't waste this opportunity.

She slipped into Cora's quarters, the last room at the far end of the hall, three doors down from Hook's stateroom. It was small and dark—lush black carpeting, dark red walls, and glossy gnarled furniture the color of chocolate. Emma rolled her eyes.

_Magic users._

Beginning with the desk, Emma searched the drawers. She flipped through books, especially on the lookout for anything like a journal, although she doubted Cora would keep such a thing. She rummaged through the bookcase, knocked on the walls, searched under the bed and in the nightstand, and picked the lock on her wardrobe. Nowhere could she find a folder labeled _Secret Plan – Evil Eyes Only_ or anything helpful.

The only item remaining was an old trunk. Emma picked the lock and lifted the lid. When she saw the hearts, she jumped and dropped the lid.

After all this time, pulsing human hearts still gave her the willies.

Squeezing one eye shut and cracking one open, Emma sneaked another peak. There were two hearts—one as black as a coal mine from West Virginia. _Cora's_, she realized. Hook mentioned Cora didn't keep her heart inside her body. Which made a certain amount of sense. After everything Cora had done, at least she was afflicted by a healthy sense of paranoia. It was the least Fate could do.

The other heart was not blackened so much as swirled with a handful of dark tendrils. It pulsed deeply and glowed the most beautiful crimson. _Hook. _As if picking up a newborn from its crib, Emma cupped it in her palms. She stared into it.

"I've got you, Killian," she whispered.

Then, she heard voices in her head. Cora and Hook, talking as they navigated Storybrooke's sidewalks. It was hard—if she didn't concentrate, the voices left. When she did hear them, they were muffled, more truly an impression of them speaking rather than their actual words.

_Must come with practice_, she thought.

That's when an idea struck her. Cora's plan. She could speak at the heart, as she'd seen Cora do, and borrow Hook's ears to hear Cora's plan. She'd have to make it sound convincing, in case he'd lied and really did know her plan. Would Cora believe a simple excuse—_I've forgotten, love, what is our master plan again? In specific detail with times and locations, if you please._

Emma rehearsed the phrasing for several long minutes. She settled upon something that sounded natural. She raised the heart to her lips and took a breath to speak. It caught in her throat. She sighed and lowered the heart.

True, he owed her. For that stupid remark he made as he secured her to the bed earlier. If he'd known how much it rattled her, she believed he wouldn't have said it. After all, he was only joking, and he already showed several times he wasn't actually going to hurt her. In fact, he took quite a few risks for her. Still, he crossed a line he hadn't made amends for yet. This could be it.

Emma sighed. No, maybe not. In her determination to save Henry and her family, she couldn't become like Regina and Cora. This was his heart—it didn't belong to Cora, and it wasn't hers to borrow. She'd find another way.

As she glanced back down at the truck, her own heart beat faster. There it was. A leather journal, black in color. She flipped it open and recognized Cora's spidery handwriting. Maps. Spells. This had to be it.

And that's when she heard the footsteps.


	7. Could've Fooled Me: Part 7

**A/N: **Thank you for the lovely response! If you have something you'd like to see, I'd love to hear about it. I'm nearing the end of this "episode" (my term for long "one-shots" chronologically connected). Possibly 3-4 more parts. More episodes planned beyond this one.

**Featured characters:** Hook, Emma, Cora

Cora and Hook had returned. Emma knew it by the footsteps in the hall, approaching Cora's room. It didn't sound like Hook's boots—it sounded like high heels. From the other side of the door, the latch squeaked as Cora depressed the lever with her thumb.

Emma looked at the trunk. Heart or journal?

"You!"

Emma tucked and rolled to the right. Cora's fireball flew past Emma's head and ignited

the trunk. As Cora screamed and clawed for her heart, Emma barreled through the doorway. She crashed into Hook halfway down the hall.

"What-"

Emma slipped her hand under his jacket and searched for his pockets. "I need the bag you keep your flask in."

"Swan-" He looked at the smoke rolling out the doorway behind her. He backed up with a small laugh as she continued digging in his pockets. "That tickles. What's going-"

Emma heard Cora knocking around in the room, perhaps chasing her heart as it rolled across the floor. Perhaps getting to her feet. They just didn't have time. Emma grabbed his hooked arm with one hand. Before he could protest, she pricked three inches below her palm and slit the surface of her under arm flesh all the way to her elbow.

Hook gasped and jerked away. "Swan! What are you doing-"

"Giving you a cover story." Emma shoved him in the chest, dragging them both up the stairs. Hook glanced over his shoulder as another loud crash came from the smoking room.

They emerged on deck. Emma pulled him to the railing. Blood dripped down her arm. When he reached his good hand for it, she smeared it all over his fingers. She dabbed her arm with her own hand and wiped the blood on his face.

Hook backed up. "Stop it-"

"I need your bag. Now!"

Jumping at the ferocity in her voice, he fished in the one jacket pocket she hadn't checked. He was just pressing it into her hand when Cora exploded from the stairwell. Emma shoved him again in the chest, causing both of them to fall away from each other as a fireball passed by their heads.

Emma slipped Hook's heart in the bag and cinched it shut before Cora could recover herself. By the time the queen found Emma, she was already on her feet with the black bag held just behind her leg.

"Your pirate bodyguard tried to stop me," Emma held up her bloody arm, "but I already know your plan."

"You've outweighed your usefulness," Cora sneered. She raised her hands again. "Hold her still, Captain."

* * *

Hook scrambled to his feet. Why Emma was so desperate for a pouch, he didn't know, but he'd pieced together something about an angry Cora and a fruitless plan to give him an alibi. Fruitless, but sweet. She really did care.

When Cora threatened to burn Emma, Hook jumped forward to defend her. Emma caught his arms and stopped him half a foot away. Before he could protest, Emma slipped the sword from its sheath at Hook's waist and batted the fireball over the side. She was a fast and firery lass, he couldn't help but appreciate anew.

Cora refired. This time, he tackled Emma to the deck so she couldn't keep him away. They hit the deck with her on bottom. Hook tried to roll off her, but she grabbed him by the arms.

"Take this," she whispered, breaking her necklace from her neck. She pressed it into his palm when he was too surprised to react. He had a flashback to the glass coffin and the key. "Show them so they know you're telling the truth."

"Who?" Hook said.

Behind them, Cora's labored breathing indicated she pushed the recharge on her fireball spell to the maximum. Forgetting his question for the moment, Hook helped Emma to her feet and picked up his sword as Cora raised her palms. He would have attacked her if Emma hadn't raised the black bag into the air.

"Cora!" She shouted, and both he and the queen turned to stare. Emma smirked. "Missing something?"

Cora's eyes flitted from the bag to Hook, and that's when he knew, just knew, what she had done. Cora did too, and the fury in her eyes indicated Emma was not long for this world.

Hook stared at Emma and shook his head. "Please don't do this, love. Not for me."

"You started it."

* * *

With both biceps and triceps engaged, Emma threw the bag far over the side of the ship. Hook had no choice but to dive after it. When Cora raised her palms to incinerate both the pirate and the bag, Emma tackled her to the ground with more enthusiasm than all her years of jail bondsman-ing had hitherto evoked.

The women rolled across the planks, vying for control of the others' throat. Emma sat up behind the queen and straddled her, counting the seconds in her head. She didn't know how much lead time Hook needed to get to shore.

The queen summoned a blast; Emma found herself scooting backwards with such a speed she felt splinters in her seat. At another moment, Cora looked above her and Emma fell flat on her back. Manacles grew out of the deck, circling her wrists.

"Foolish child," Cora hissed. "Such a sacrifice wasted on someone like the Captain."

"I prefer to think of it as an investment. And if you intend to take revenge by crushing my heart, I think you'll remember soon enough it doesn't come out."

Cora pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. "I'm counting on it." She plunged her hands into Emma's chest.

* * *

Hook threw a heavy, wet arm onto Storybrooke's bank. Dangling from his hook was the bag holding his heart. Clutched in his fist was Emma's necklace. He struggled to his feet, boots balancing on the lip of the soggy grass, when Emma's tortured scream cut the air and sent him to his knees.

In a moment, he knew only one thing could cause the agony he heard in her cry. Cora was jerking her heart, hammering it against the wall that would not let it pass for its own protection. Cora had spent the better half of their voyage griping about Emma's protection spell. Hook's stomach turned as if he'd eaten slimy lettuce.

Nearly dropping his treasures, Hook spun and dove back in the water. As Emma let out another scream-this one long and sustained, a singer's cry that nearly gutted his insides-he pushed himself faster through the water. And then, as Emma's scream faded, the ship disappeared.

"No!" Hook reached the spot, but the ship wasn't just cloaked. It was gone.

He treaded water for some time, debating. Cora had his ship, his home-his everything. And Emma. He didn't know how to find them-how to even start. He was in a strange place, probably considered the enemy. Emma's parents knew the town. Snow knew him. He had to find them and pray they would believe his story.

Hook held the necklace in his fist up to the moonlight. It was a compass. How had he never noticed before? With a sigh 300 years old, Hook pushed his arms through the water, heading back to Storybrooke.


	8. Could've Fooled Me: Part 8

**Featured characters: **Hook, Snow, Charming, Henry

If Snow hadn't driven up the white path in the metal cart, Hook never would have found the Charming house. He watched from the tree line as she unloaded what looked to be provisions from the rear of the cart. Once she was inside, he saw a tall man illuminated in the window, and a boy.

_Henry. _So that's the kid this was all about. Safe with his grandparents for the moment, unaware an evil queen held his mother captive and intended to kidnap him along with his step-mother. Poor kid. What a family.

It was dark in Storybrooke, and cold. Hook shivered as another wind raked him over with icy fingers. His leather clothes hung soaked and heavy on his frame. His teeth chattered despite his attempts to still them. He didn't relish appearing before the Charmings as a shivering, lost dog.

With the black pouch in his jacket pocket and Emma's necklace clasped in his fist, Hook ducked his head and marched up to the door before he could change his mind. He rapped on the wood.

The man opened it. He saw the black leather, the metal hook, in an instant, and he stiffened. Hook had to give him credit. This could be none other than Prince Charming, instincts honed after many years of fighting for his family. He found himself respecting the man a bit.

Just a bit. After all, what kind of man goes by the name "Charming"?

"Can I help you?" Charming said, caution in every syllable. Henry appeared at the door but was pushed back with Charming's free hand.

"I have news about Emma. Your wife knows me."

Snow appeared next to Charming. She drew a long gasp, and then narrowed her eyes as she stepped out at him. Charming followed her onto the landing. "_You._ What are you doing here? Where is my daughter?"

Charming pulled his wife back by the arm. He stood between her and Hook.

Hook raised his good hand. "I understand your apprehension, milady, yet I have news about Emma—"

Bad idea. Charming saw the necklace dangling from his fist, and then the blood on his face.

With a snarl, he grabbed Hook by the wet labels and slammed him against the side of the porch. "Where did you get that? What have you done to my daughter?"

Henry joined them outside. "Grandma, who is this?"

Snow only said, "Henry, get back inside."

Hook caught the boy's eyes as the lad looked him over. A smile crossed his face. Sideways, like his mother's. "Oh my gosh. You're Captain Hook."

"Henry!" Charming warned.

"I'm not here to hurt you," Hook said. "I helped Emma escape the Forest by smuggling her aboard my ship. Now Cora has her—and the _Roger—_and she's disappeared. Emma needs your help. She gave me this so you'd believe me." He opened his hand to relinquish the necklace.

Charming snatched it from his hand. Hook was reluctant to part with it. He wanted to hold it until he could latch it around Emma's neck.

With a glance at his wife, who came near to touch the necklace with the same look of longing Hook felt, Charming frowned. "How do we know you're telling the truth?"

"If you helped her, why did you abandon her?" Snow added.

Hook took his time answering. His heart weighed in his jacket pocket. "She . . . left me little latitude."

Henry smiled. "That's my mom. He's telling the truth, you guys."

All heads turned towards the boy. Hook held out his good hand. Henry shook it before his grandparents could intervene. "Don't tell me you've inherited her lie detector as well as her smile."

"You look cold."

Her perceptiveness, too. Hook shivered in the wind. "Your mother forced me into a bit of a swim. It is cold in this land."

Snow murmured something, laying a hand on his arm. "You've been through a lot," she said, as if connecting the dots in his story. "Come inside. We'll get you warmed up. Tell us everything you know."

Hook nodded his thanks. Snow followed Henry inside, and as Hook moved to do the same, he caught Charming's glare.

"If you've hurt my daughter," Charming hissed in his ear, "it is within my capability to make you regret it. Deeply."

"I assure you, mate," Hook said, "after spending three days with your daughter, I believe it."


	9. Could've Fooled Me: Part 9

**Featured characters: **Hook, Snow

"We can't use _that _spell!" The woman in blue scolded the old shrew. "It's too easy to trace back to the original caster. We need a spell with a cloaking element as well as tracking."

"Don't get your dust in a sparkle, young lady! I never claimed to be an expert." Granny pushed her glasses lower on her nose.

The bickering escalated. Half a dozen people crowded in the Charmings' living room. Some sat on the chairs. Many of the men paced. Henry sat on the window seat with his hands in his lap, watching everything and nothing.

Hook shifted. He was perched on the edge of the Charmings' bed, temporarily clothed in what Snow referred to as "street" clothes. With the bedroom door open, he had an unobstructed view of the antics in the living room. He had no energy to smirk, however. The night's darkness had long since taken over. The setting sun reminded him of the pressing need to do something _now_.

The blue woman—a fairy, according to Snow—and the shrew—who appeared to answer to "Granny"—had been through five spell books. Neither could agree on one. As the only two Storybrooke inhabitants with magical knowledge who could also be trusted, Snow impressed upon him the need to wait for their advice. He was not feeling so generous.

"Why are you out here?"

Hook jumped. He hadn't seen Snow approach from the hall on the right. A damp dishrag hung over her shoulder. After learning his story, the Charmings had gathered the rescue party inside a quarter of an hour. It being almost supper, and Snow being who she was, she had fed them all without a complaint.

"I imagined I would be unwelcome," Hook said, without any ill feeling. "Besides, they're an amusing lot from this perspective. Any closer and I might be driven to violence."

"Then I recommend you remain where you are." The bed dipped as Snow sat next to him. She reached for his hand, opening his fingers without resistance as she had taken him off guard. She dropped Emma's necklace into his palm.

Hook stared at it. "Why give this to me?"

"She gave it to you. You ought to return it."

He closed his hand around it. The stones set in the silver circle pressed into his palm with their dozen sharp edges. Hook was silent for a long stretch before he said, "May I ask you something?"

Snow smiled.

"Why did you believe my story? After having seen me in the Forest and the events that transpired there."

Snow didn't wait to answer, which surprised him. "Because I did see you in the Forest. I saw the way you looked at Emma."

Hook almost rolled his eyes at the queen. "If you're going to claim you saw love in my eyes, you are wrong. We'd just met, and I was lying to her for the duration of it. Your daughter does not believe in love at first sight."

"I saw respect."

Hook glanced down at his hands. "I've not been bested often," he mumbled, annoyed.

"And I saw her face when she returned from the giant's palace without you. Whatever else I think about you, I can't deny that you two have an understanding she and I do not."

He mulled that word over. _Understanding. _A good enough label for their arrangement. He glanced at the queen when she was occupied watching the living room occupants. With a shaky breath, he withdrew the black bag from his jacket.

"Will," his voice faltered. His good hand betrayed its weakness as it trembled in the eyes of the queen. "Will you help me?"

Snow's eyes grew to the size of wagon wheels. She cupped the black velvet in her hands like a newborn's head. Her heart melted into her eyes as she breathed his name, "Hook."

He looked away. He thumbed his nose and tried to remain detached. "Cora relieved me of it," he said, as if it were the most inconsequential thing in the world. When he met Snow's eyes again, the charade crumbled before it could take hold.

"I'm so sorry."

"Emma—this is why she's not here." Hook ducked his head. "She saved it. Cora is punishing her. This . . . is my fault."

"No, honey." Hook didn't have time to bristle at the thought of being addressed as a child. Snow took him in her arms and gave him the most motherly hug he'd ever felt. Never mind he was probably older than her. At least, originally speaking. She released him but kept a hand on his shoulder. "This is Cora's fault. Emma wanted to help you. She wouldn't want you to feel responsible."

Hook looked down at his chest. He pushed his coat open and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. "Can you fix it?"

Snow looked like she could cry. He'd heard that the intended queen was a sympathetic soul, but this was more emotion than he'd anticipated. "I wish I could."

"Oh." Hook repositioned his clothes and took the bag.

"You can keep it here. At least it will be safe."

"Is there anyone else?"

Snow shrugged. "Regina. Gold too, but I don't see that working for you."

Hook pressed his teeth. He would not allow his mission to consume his attention again. Not yet. "No," he said in a clipped tone. "I shall have to be satisfied by its safekeeping for the moment."

Henry ran into the bedroom with Charming, both as eager as children in a sweet shop.

"They found one!" Henry blurted. "We're ready! It's time to find Emma."


	10. Could've Fooled Me: Part 10

**Featured characters: **Hook, Henry

"I can't believe they're not going to let us help find Emma," Henry said, chin in his hands as he hunched on the porch steps.

Hook did the same. "Me either, mate."

It was dark. The Charmings and the rest of their search party had left an hour ago, chasing the sparking ball of blue fairy dust from its point of origin in the driveway. Snow gave them strict orders to stay in the house, as if they were some decrepit hound. Hook wouldn't stand for it—_"_I am _Captain _Killian Jones and I'll not be ordered about by a schoolteacher, even if she is the queen."

But one look at Henry's face stopped the protests before they left his lips. He knew that look. Left on his own, the boy would sneak out to search for his mother. Someone had to keep an eye on him.

"Don't take it to heart," Hook said, sounding very much like _he'd _taken it to heart already. "Your grandparents are . . ." he had to force the word out, "right. 'Tis dangerous chasing after Cora."

Henry leveled a look at Hook. It was one of Emma's trademarks: crooked brow, a frown, hooded eyes that asked how much of a fool he took her to be. Henry had mastered her look. Hook couldn't help a chuckle. _Razor sharp, this kid._

Hook ambled to his feet, huffing a great pirate's exasperated sigh. "Ah, who am I foolin'? Mate, do you want to go find your mum?"

Henry jumped to his feet. "Do I ever! Do you have a plan?"

Hook winked. "That blue lass is not the only one with a tracking trick or two. Grab your cloak or whatever you call them here and let's be off—before your grandparents return and impale me on my own namesake."

Henry's eyes were as wide as the _Roger's _wheel. "I've got a better idea. _Camo_."

"Camo?" Hook repeated. He was forced to run after the lad as Henry bounded up to the second floor, to his sleeping chambers. "Another one of your strange words. Is it like ammo?"

Henry thrust open his wardrobe and pulled out a suit of clothing speckled in green and black. He held it up with all the pride of a captain on a new ship. "Camo. Short for camouflage. Soldiers use it to sneak up on people."

Hook looked at him blankly.

"I've got gear from head to toe. Grandpa has a set that will fit you, too."

Hook reached out a hand to touch the garment. The texture was thick and strange. "And what is the purpose of disguising ourselves as vegetation?"

"So we can approach unnoticed. C'mon, it'll be great. I have some grease paint, too."

Henry left his suit in Hook's hand as he took off for Snow and Charming's room. Hook gave the clothes a long stare. "I've never dressed as a bush before."


End file.
